


fifteen weeks of vodka and interventions

by spookyfoot



Series: i know who i want to take me home [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, M/M, Pining Victor Nikiforov, and lots of vodka, everyone else is suffering, intervention banners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 15:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyfoot/pseuds/spookyfoot
Summary: Chris recovers first, “welcome to baby’s first intervention!” He rushes over to Victor’s side, wraps an arm around his shoulders, and ushers him into the apartment.“Is all of this for me?” Victor’s eyes are a little wet, and his hand is pressed to his chest.“Everything the light touches is yours.” Chris gestures towards the banner before handing Victor a plate and a drink. Victor drains it before moving on to the vegetables.They burn through three handles of vodka, cursing Yuuri Katsuki for stealing Victor’s heart, cursing Mila for not buying enough heavy cream for four actual Russians and an honorary one, cursing Georgi’s latest ex—what was her name again?—and just cursing in general.(That last one is mostly Yuri.)___________Victor pines after the beautiful man he met at theShaken Not Stirred Mixology Competition. Everyone else suffers through it with interventions and a lot of vodka.Or: Five times Yuri, Mila, Georgi, and Chris broke out the Intervention banner, and the one time they burned it.





	fifteen weeks of vodka and interventions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [opalish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalish/gifts).



> opalish commented on the first (and originally only, oops) one shot in this series about all the interventions the staff at aria had to have had for victor over the months between him meeting yuuri and when "drunk in love" ends. so. here you go, a gift for you <3.
> 
> i'd recommend reading the first fic in this series to really know what's going on, but sometimes, you gotta rebel a little ;)

_Week One_

The first intervention is more party than prosecution. They crowd into Victor’s apartment above the bar, saddling him with the bookkeeping he’s been putting off for months while they sneak upstairs. Mila makes White Russians complete with little floral umbrellas. Georgi makes finger sandwiches—crusts cut off, and slightly too salty with cucumbers drenched in the tears of his latest breakup. 

“When I said we were going to have a salt-fest, I didn’t mean it _literally_ ,” Mila says, fiddling with the assortment of raw vegetables she’s arranged to spell out “fuck him, you can do better.” 

(It took a while to find a tray big enough.)

Yuri even draws a hand flipping the middle finger in roasted red pepper puree on top of the hummus, in a rare display of almost-affection.

Victor’s apartment is an extension of the converted industrial space of the bar just below—exposed brick, chrome finishings, and a stain-less steel life that reflects nothing of the person in it. 

“The banner gives it a homey feel,” Chris notes, eyeing the “Happy First Intervention, Victor,” banner that’s stretched above the entirely-for-show fireplace. 

“We’ll let him keep it then,” Georgi sniffs, wet and ominous, “as a reminder it’s better to have loved and lost—"

“I think that’s the exact opposite of the sentiment we’re going for.” 

“Which is?” Georgi, Mila, Chris, and Yuri all whip towards the ajar reclaimed-wood barn door. Victor leans against the frame, arms folded over his chest, a little confused but mostly amused.

Chris recovers first, “welcome to baby’s first intervention!” He rushes over to Victor’s side, wraps an arm around his shoulders, and ushers him into the apartment. 

“Is all of this for me?” Victor’s eyes are a little wet, and his hand is pressed to his chest. 

“Everything the light touches is yours.” Chris gestures towards the banner before handing Victor a plate and a drink. Victor drains it before moving on to the vegetables. 

They burn through three handles of vodka, cursing Yuuri Katsuki for stealing Victor’s heart, cursing Mila for not buying enough heavy cream for four actual Russians and an honorary one, cursing Georgi’s latest ex—what was her name again?—and just cursing in general.

(That last one is mostly Yuri.)

Four out of five of them stumble into the bar the next day, an hour past when they were supposed to open. Mila and Yuri glare at the gleaming display of bottles lined up behind the chrome counter. 

Victor, entirely too cheerful, shakes a bottle of ibuprofen in the their faces. 

The staff exchange smiles and air high-fives as they set up for the rest of the day. 

Even Yuri can admit to himself he’s _not entirely annoyed_ to see Victor much closer to whatever passes for his normal.

And that’s the end of it, they think, as the post-work crowd starts filtering through the doors. 

(It’s not even close to the end of it.)

 

_Week Five_

Five weeks later and they’re hosting weekly interventions, Victor’s will power to resist his snowballing infatuation fluctuates as sure as the tides. By the time Monday rolls around, it’s a foregone conclusion that they’ll be in Victor’s apartment, crossing out the “first” in front of intervention to read second, then third, then fourth, and now fifth. 

(They’re running out of room on the banner. )

“Did you _see_ this?" Victors' waving his phone in their faces and sloshing his Dirty Shirley everywhere as he stumbles around his apartment desperately trying to convey the depth of his longing. 

(They got that message during Intervention Number One, thank you very much.)

Last week, Victor found Yuuri Katsuki’s dead Instagram and has obsessed over all _five_ of the photos ever since. 

 _Aria_ ’s employees do their best to be supportive. But Victor is making it difficult. 

By Intervention Five, the spread is a couple of hastily ripped open bags of chips, a frozen pizza Yuri warmed up in the oven with a “shut the fuck up, I’m not drinking on a mostly empty stomach." 

By the end of the night, Yuri’s attempting to pry Victor’s phone out of his hands, so he can reset the wallpaper from Yuuri Katsuki’s face. 

(Really, Victor does this to himself.)

(Yuri loses his fight, Katsuki’s face stays.)

 

_Week Nine_

“And then! He just comes into the bar and acts like he doesn’t even _know_ me!” 

“We know Victor, we were there.” 

Victor plows on, uncaring, “how am I supposed to see him three times a week and just…leave him alone?” 

“The same way the rest of us do.”

Yuri is _sick_ of Victor treating these interventions like his personal therapy sessions since the fucking Katsudon walked back into their lives. 

(He only takes a little bit of pleasure that Victor’s forehead was on full display when he ran into Katsudon again. Ok, a lot of pleasure. Schaudenfreude is kind of his thing, why fight what works?) 

They’ve started pasting the weekly intervention count on top of the banner. None of them wants to prolong their misery enough to order a new one. 

(Oh great, now Victor and Georgi are sobbing into each other’s shoulders.)

(If Victor keeps using these as his personal therapy sessions, Yuri is going to start charging an hourly rate. He doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.)

(Georgi can pay up for years of free advice too. Yuri’s a big believer in equality.)

 

_Week Twelve_

Yuuri keeps coming into Aria and being beautiful and smiling and Victor is _suffering_. 

Yuuri sits at the bar more often than not now, and today, oh god today Victor ran into Yuuri at _Holy Grounds_ and they _talked_ and now Victor’s sitting on the other side of the bar at _Aria_ , pretending to work even though really he’s following the bob of Yuuri’s Adams apple as he finishes his third drink of the evening. 

“Let’s do shots!” Yuuri’s flushed, his fingers wrapped around Victor’s wrist. 

“What kind?” Victor fumbles a set of shot glasses, desperately trying to look more put together than he is. 

“Body shots.” Yuuri smiles and, god, it’s like his thighs all over again. Yuuri’s smile needs to come with a warning label. 

It isn’t until Yuuri’s clumsily manhandling him onto the bar that Victor realizes what about to happen. 

(Victor’s brain and body are reduced to putty by the power of Yuuri’s presence.)

Yuuri pulls Victor’s shirt up, fingers scrabbling against the soft skin and sharp muscle just beneath the fabric. 

(He was _not prepared_ for this.)

He’s even less prepared when Yuuri leans over the bar, chest flush against Victor’s stomach, to grab the bottle of tequila, a salt shaker, and a lime that Victor had only managed to cut in half before he’d ended up on top of his own bar. 

Yuuri pours a puddle of salt onto Victor’s stomach before sticking a lime against his neck. 

Victor braces himself, but he’s still entirely unprepared for the wet kiss of Yuuri’s lips against his neck as he grabs the lime with his mouth. 

___________________

 **suffering itself** [ _8:34_ ]: MY APARTMENT TOMORROW NIGHT THE USUAL

___________________

Every one of _Aria’s_ employees knows that that text means. 

"It's Intervention Monday again," Chris sighs. “We really out to start monetizing it, it might make up for the way Victor insists on running Happy Hour” 

"It's the twelfth Intervention Monday in twelve weeks," Yuri snaps. "I don't want cocktails, I want death."

“Yours or Victors?” 

“Preferably his, but at this point we can’t afford to be picky,” Mila chimes in from the other end of the bar. 

“You’re coming with me.” Yuri points at Otabek, who brought him into his shift and is apparently staying until the end if Yuri get his way. “If I have to suffer, you do too.” 

“What’s yours is mine then? That, almost sounds like a marriage proposal.” The corner of Otabek’s mouth quirks upward, which in context is basically a full on smile. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Yuri’s blushing and furiously drying a glass he cleaned over ten minutes ago. “I hope Victor cries on you.” 

 

_Week Fifteen_

Mila uncaps the Sharpie, scribbles “Week Fifteen???” on a piece of paper, and slaps it on top of the banner. 

She started drinking before everyone made it up to Victors apartment. Yuuri hasn’t been to the bar in a little over two weeks, and Yuri’s disgruntled attempt at “fixing this colossal clusterfuck,” as he’d put it, had only ended in a stalemate. 

No one even bothers with actual mixed drinks or using glasses. They’re all drinking straight out of the bottle.

 

 _Week Sixteen_  

It’s about an hour before the bar opens and the entirety of _Aria’s_   staff burst into applause when Yuuri comes in and Victor walks right up to him to plant a kiss on his cheek. 

“Fucking finally.” Yuri’s not smiling, but but he’s not _scowling_ either, which is almost as good. 

“It’s Intervention Monday isn’t it?” Chris poses, with faux-innocence that fools absolutely no one. 

“I don’t think we need those anymore.” Victor’s smile is sappier than a maple tree in syrup season. 

“Oh no. We definitely need one.” Chris reaches out to wrap a hand around Yuuri’s wrist and pulls him through the back room, up the stairs to Victor’s apartment. 

“But, Yuuri and I are together now!” Victor whines, even as he follows Chris.

(They’d have to surgically remove him from Yuuri’s side.)

“Oh it’s not for you. It’s for us.” 

“What?” Victor asks. But Chris is already opening the door to Victor’s apartment. He pulls a bundle from the kitchen cabinet, rushes back past Victor and Yuuri—who haven’t even made it inside of the apartment before they have to turn back around—and back downstairs.

“To the back alley!” Chris yells. Mila and Georgi enthusiastically echo his cry. 

(Yuri mumbles it.) 

“What—" Yuuri starts.

“I have no idea,” Victor shrugs. 

When they make it to the alley, Chris, Georgi, Mila, and Yuri already have a bonfire going in a trashcan. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.” Victor did read _some_ of the city’s laws before he opened _Aria_.

“Yeah well, torture is illegal, but you’ve done more than enough of that during the past sixteen weeks.” Yuri pulls out a bag of marshmallows and Georgi hands him a long a couple long metal skewers. 

“But—"

“Nope. You don’t get to argue,” Mila says, taking a marshmallow topped skewers from Yuri. 

“But I—"

“Katsudon, you need to see this.” Yuri snatches the bundle of fabric from Chris and unfurls it—“Happy ~~first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth~~  Intervention, Victor!” 

“We ran out of room after eight,” Georgi sighs. 

“How many were there?” Yuuri asks. 

“Fifteen,” Chris replies, handing Yuuri a skewer, before throwing the banner into the blaze. “Good riddance.” 

Mila nods, then shoves her marshmallow out over the flames. 

The others follow suit. Victor steals Yuuri’s marshmallow.

( _Aria_ opens late that night because the staff were too busy making s’mores over the ashes of Victor’s former emotional anguish. None of them particularly mind.)

**Author's Note:**

> +this exchange was part of opalish's comment though it's been changed and added to: 
> 
> "It's Intervention Monday again," Chris sighs. “We really out to start monetizing it, it might make up for the way Victor insists on running Happy Hour” 
> 
> "It's the twelfth Intervention Monday in twelve weeks," Yuri snaps. "I don't want cocktails, I want death."
> 
> +i'm here on [tumblr](http://katsukiyuuristrophyhusband.tumblr.com) for fic previews and updates 
> 
> +thank you for reading!


End file.
